


Beriad

by Evian_99



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explosion, Security Guard!Bard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 17:52:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9196760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evian_99/pseuds/Evian_99
Summary: As a low-ranking security guard, Bard had never imagined saving the Elvenking.





	

**Author's Note:**

> In this modern alternative universe, the wood elves have endured even in the world of men. Where other kingdoms fell, Mirkwood was restored once again to its old glory. Thranduil still is the Elvenking and rules his elves in peace. Their kingdom, which I renamed Eryn Lasgalen, is now located in the vast forests of Canada’s boreal zone.
> 
> The title, Beriad, is elvish for the word protect.

Alone in the hallway, mulling over his thoughts, Bard hits the windowsill in anger. Why, of all people, does the so-called ‘master’ hate him the most? Just the slightest thing is enough to give him the worst, most degrading tasks.

Calm, he says to himself. It is not worth it. He can better complete his task as the mature adult he is, opposite to his childish boss. With that Bard continues his patrol, taking his time to look for suspicious activity, and at the same time enjoying the numerous paintings on the palace’s walls.

After only half an hour, Bard sees his first stray. It is a tall, white-haired male that obviously got lost in the maze of hallways. The man is dressed in long, expensive looking robes, and wears some sort of crown made of flowers and twigs, which, to be honest, seems to be a strange choice of headdress, but Bard is not one to judge.

As the male calmly looks at one of the paintings, Bard also calmly makes his approach. ‘Excuse me, Sir’, he begins, before gasping in wonder as the stranger turns. It is no man; it is an elf. The Elvenking most likely. He swallows. ‘Did you mayhaps lose your way?’

The elf smiles. Beautiful, and radiant as elves are. ‘It would appear so, Mister?’

‘Bowman. Bard Bowman’, Bard quickly says, ‘Do you want me to lead you back to the gala?’

The Elvenking purses his lips. ‘Want is not the right word,’ he speaks, ‘It would be expected of me, however.’

Bard can’t help but grin. Motioning with his hand, he suggests: ‘I can lead you the way if you want, your majesty.’

For a while, the two walked side by side. First in silence, then talking when Bard gets enough of the silence. ‘Do you have children?’

Thranduil smiles, his eyes twinkling. ‘Aye, I have one son. His name is Legolas, and the little fiend was quick to sneak out minutes after our arrival.’

Bard laughs in mirth. ‘Sounds like something my son Bain would do. Always quick to escape from something he doesn’t like. Very different than my eldest, Sigrid, though my youngest, Tilda, would probably try such a thing as well.’

‘Three children,’ the Elvenking nods impressed, ‘I wonder how you manage. My Legolas was a handful when he was young, still is. Though, I must say that I wouldn’t have it in any other way.’

‘Well, they can be a handful, but as you said: I wouldn’t have it in any other way.’ Ready to ask another question, Bard startles when Thranduil abruptly stops.

‘What is this smell?’ the elf mutters. He seems to be intently sniffing the air, and Bard does too.

For a moment it is silent, before Bard realises that he smells gas. ‘Quick!’ he shouts, ‘This way!’ With that he grabs the Elvenking’s wrist, and pulls him with him.

They run through the hallway, as far as they can go, before going down the stairs. The smell becomes stronger, and Bard activates his ear piece. ‘Bowman here,’ he begins, ‘I notice a strong gas smell.’ He doesn’t get to say something else, when a deep, groaning noise reaches his ears. 

As quick as he can, Bard pulls a door open. Pushing Thranduil in, he then slams the door shut, before throwing himself at the Elvenking when everything explodes.

Whether it be due to their distance, or sheer luck, they don’t get the brunt of the explosion. However, they do get a shower of millions of glass shards. The building gives one violent shudder, before calming. A deathlike silence descends on them. Now covered in glass, and breathing as if they ran a marathon, the two are too shocked to move.

Bard’s ears are ringing, but he quickly regains his bearings. First checking himself for injuries, he rolls from Elvenking’s back. Starting to inspect him for injuries, he is paused by a shaking hand.

‘I am unharmed,’ he says, his voice loud, ‘What was that?’

The security guard’s face is grim. ‘An explosion,’ he says, ‘Come, we have to get the hell out of here.’

Before they can exit the room, Bard halts Thranduil. He cautiously looks in the hallway, but sees no-one. With caution, but hurry in their steps, he direct them to the next set of stairs. Walking down, they can clearly hear the noise. Screams of pain, of panic, shouts for help and backup. Bard ignores it all in favour of getting them to safety.

They are almost in the main hall when the undeniable sound of bullets reaches them. As if only working on his instincts, Bard pulls the Elvenking with him to the other side of the building. Running through randomly chosen hallways, Bard eventually breaks a window. He ushers Thranduil out of it, before following himself.

The two land in a large rosebush, whose nasty thorns pull on their skin and clothing. Struggling out of the bush, Bard direct his charge to the exit of the compound, where the military and a myriad of agents are forcing their way in, and surrounding the palace.

One group of soldiers stand out from the rest. Instead of the general army wear, they wear a steel armour. They seemingly try to calm a blonde, Bard can’t see if the person is male or female, who clearly wants to go back inside.

‘That are my people’, Thranduil suddenly says. He point to the soldiers surrounding the aforementioned blonde. ‘And my son.’ The relief is clear to hear in his voice.

His soldier now have spotted them too, and run to meet them. Legolas is the first to reach them, embracing his father in a hug. 

‘I am fine, Penneth. Worry not. Mister Bowman’s quick thinking saved us both.’ After his son has finished fussing, Thranduil turns to face Bard. ‘You have my deepest thanks.’

Bard smiles a nervous smile. ‘It was my honour, your majesty.’

The Elvenking bows his head in a slow nod. ‘Galo Anor erin râd gîn—May the sun shine on your path.’

And as the elves escort their royals into their carriages, Bard remains standing on his place. He watches as they leave, before sighing. Elves, he can already hear Tilda’s excitement.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it, and thanks for reading!


End file.
